


A Court of Serpents and Starlight

by pennyroads



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 09:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17864720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads
Summary: Betty Cooper, daughter of the High Lord of the Day Court, has resigned herself to the future her parents have chosen for her.The High Lord of the Night Court has a different idea.- a Bughead x ACOTAR crossover





	A Court of Serpents and Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a short drabble for a set of aesthetics and ended up... as this. 
> 
> I’ve taken Betty and Jug and sent them off to play in Sarah J. Maas’ wonderful universe. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> I’m eternally grateful to theheavycrown & ShibbyCat for all their help with this story. They worked their incredible beta magic and made this readable.

The magical kingdom of Prythian, home to the Fae, is divided into seven territories: four seasonal courts - Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter; and three solar courts - Dawn, Day and Night. Each territory is independently ruled by a High Lord of great power, and so it has been since the beginning of time.  
  
Betty Cooper, daughter of the High Lord of the Day Court, is set to wed a male of her father’s choosing on the dawn of her eighteenth birthday. It is only one of many decisions in her life that have been firmly snatched from her hands without her approval.  
  
Bound by duty and her mother's vicious ruling, Betty rebels the only way she knows how - by going on frequent visits to remote corners of the Day Court providing help to those in need. It is a respite from her own troubles and soothes her restless soul.  
  
It is on one such trip, to a village on the border between the Courts of Day and Night, that she encounters a tall, dark male. His Illyrian wings, broad and strong, and his intricately designed tattoos give him away almost immediately.  
  
_Jughead Jones_ , High Lord of the Night Court.  
  
The youngest High Lord in the history of Prythian - and the most powerful. Half-High Fae, Half-Illyrian warrior, and a force to be reckoned with on and off the battlefield.  
  
Aside from his distinctive wings, a mark of his Illyrian descent, his most famous attribute is the arrogant, sardonic smirk permanently etched on his face.  
  
He stands before Betty now, wings tucked neatly behind him, wearing nothing more than practical fighting leather trousers and sturdy boots. His chest, lean but strong and toned, glimmers under the moonlight.  
  
The way his gaze falls on her, weighty and impenetrable, makes Betty falter. Raw power exudes from him, causing a chill to run down her spine - and something _else_ , secretive and intimate, like a whisper that she strains to hear, but can’t.

She can't deny that his presence gives her pause, despite the fact that neither his stance not his expression is particularly threatening. Drawing in a steadying breath, she ignores the nervous tingling in her stomach.

  
“Betty Cooper,” he drawls. “You're a sight for sore eyes.”  
  
He's standing close enough that she notices the colour of his eyes - blue, like the ocean that laps up the shores of the Summer Court. His scent, so distinctively male and strong and powerful, invades her senses, calling out to her core; to the most primal, animalistic side of her.

  
To a part of her that lay dormant, until now.  
  
Betty feels her heartbeat speed up and knows he can hear it too.  
  
“My lord. I didn't expect to find you here.” She meets his gaze, unflinching. “These lands are still within the border of the Day Court, if I'm not mistaken.”  
  
Jughead’s brow arches. “Indeed,” he chuckles.  
  
He takes a step closer, within touching distance. It takes effort to restrain herself from reaching out. She thinks, oddly, that the feeling is mutual, from the way he raises his arm and lets it fall almost immediately.  
  
“But I heard you were here. I couldn't miss the opportunity to come see the famous Betty Cooper for myself. The one who's got the whole of Prythian waiting with bated breath for her eighteenth birthday.”  
  
She feels her mood sour at the mention of the date and her involuntary nuptials.  
  
“And do you share their eagerness, _my lord_ ?” Betty makes no effort to conceal the venom in her voice. Gods damn this infernal wedding and her parents along with it.  
  
The jovial expression that had graced his face melts away, replaced by a furrowing of his dark brows which cast shadows over his eyes. “I don't condone selling your offspring to the highest bidder like a broodmare, if that's what you’re asking.”  
  
The jab stings, even though she knows it wasn't meant for her. But it gives voice to a thought long buried within her heart - that her own flesh and blood thinks of her as no more than an expensive commodity and are happy to treat her as such.  
  
Betty inhales deeply, letting the air swirl through her lungs and sweep out the pain carved into her soul since infancy by the actions of those closest to her.  
  
“We don't get to choose our family, unfortunately.” She tries to mask the emotion in her voice with a bland, flippant tone and hopes he doesn't notice.  
  
“Sometimes you can,” he says, not unkindly.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
The day has been long, and his presence is unnerving — she's not in the mood for riddles.  
  
Jughead’s eyes soften. “I know what it's like to be shackled to a future not of your own choosing. I know what it's like to feel alone in a crowd. I know what it's like to want _more_ .”  
  
His words speak to a part of her she has long tried to keep quiet. A part of her that screams, daily, to be let out, to be set free, to be allowed to be the female she wants to be, and not the one her parents demand of her.  
  
What does the High Lord of the Night Court want with her? Why is he here? Why does he know exactly what she's feeling?  
  
“I guess I don't have a choice.” she rasps, eyes downcast.  
  
Her words rattle him, and the reaction is immediate. She hears his low, guttural growl, and sees his large wings unfurl. She can't help but look up - the sight makes her lightheaded.  
  
“You _always_ have a choice. Don't let them trick you into believing you don't,” Jughead grinds out through gritted teeth.  
  
If he was striking before, with his sculpted features and his bright, inquisitive eyes, he's breathtaking now. His wings, with their smooth, dark feathers, spread out behind him and make him look fiercely imposing.  
  
Betty feels her heart speed up. Hears it pumping blood into her veins, faster and faster; trembles as a frenzied fluttering grows from her gut into her belly. It’s like nothing she's ever felt before, and she’s powerless to stop it.  
  
“It really feels like I don't.”  
  
Jughead’s hand comes up to touch her cheek, soft as a feather. His eyes lock into hers, and she leans into his touch. He breathes deep, inhaling her scent, which tells him everything he needs to know about what kind of an impact his proximity is having on her.  
  
A soft growl escapes his lips.  
  
“I have a very simple offer for you,” he pauses. He looks completely sure of himself when he offers, “Come with me to Velaris. Be free.”  
  
Betty’s entire body freezes. Even her heightened Fae senses seem to dull, blocking out her surroundings. She must have misheard him.  
  
“What?” she stammers.  
  
“There's a place in my court for you. Whatever you want to do, but know you’re welcome.”  
  
Her head spins, the sudden image of an escape to the Night Court, away from her family, leaves her feeling nervous and giddy. “You don't even know me. Not really. Why would you risk a war with my father over me? Because believe me, it'll come to that.”  
  
Jughead snorts. “I could take High Lord Hal and his poor excuse of an army in my sleep. With _both_ arms tied behind my back.”  
  
His nonchalant tone does nothing to assuage Betty’s fears.  
  
“You haven't answered my question. Why me?”  
  
It's Jughead’s turn to cast his eyes away. His wings flap gently. _A nervous tick, maybe._ “You don't remember me, but I was there. On the night of your sixteenth birthday, when your father announced you were to marry in two years’ time.”  
  
It feels like a confession, his voice heavy with an emotion she can't quite decipher.  
  
“You were?” she asks. She can't remember him - is sure she would have, given the way her body is reacting to him now.  
  
“I didn’t make my presence known. I was mostly there to show my face to the other High Lords,” he chuckles humourlessly, “to _assert my position_ , as my cadre put it.”  
  
It's the first time he's mentioned the Serpents, the group of Illyrian warriors who fight alongside him. They are said to be just as ruthless as him. Perhaps, even more so.  
  
“I wish you would've said hello,” Betty says. It comes out as a timid whisper, her body betraying her emotions.  
  
He finally turns his gaze back to her.  
  
“I do, too. I regretted it as soon as I left.” His eyes drop to her lips. “I've regretted it ever since.”  
  
She lets out a strangled sigh. “Why do I feel like this? What's happening to me?”  
  
The words escape her lips before she can stop them, but she doesn't regret them. It feels as though she's on the precipice of figuring out something important, but she can't quite get there alone.  
  
“Don't you know?” Jughead asks in a broken whisper.  
  
Something inside her clicks. Some ancient knowledge, passed down from the stars and the earth into her bloodstream the moment she came into this world.  
  
She can tell by the way a wide smile spreads on his face that he knows that she knows. Her own lips curl into an elated grin.  
  
It’s a word, with so much more weight than the four letters of which it is composed. But still, just a word. _Mate_ .  
  
The realization doesn't come as a surprise, not really. It's more of a, _Oh. There you are._  
  
And so begins a story of friendship. Of two people, intrinsically connected by a mutual understanding of each other's innermost thoughts and desires, aches and sorrows. A friendship that plants into their hearts the seed of a feeling that springs and twists and twirls and blooms into a love stronger than the fiercest ray of midday sunshine and the brightest star in the night sky.  
  
Together, they rule as High Lord and Lady of the Night Court - a Court of dreamers, of friends and of family.  
  
A Court of Freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me about badass High Ladies and their Illyrian Fae warriors on tumblr! You can find @pennyroads xx


End file.
